God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
by Illeanah
Summary: Christmas is a bitter time for Harry. Until on his quest to destory the horcruxes he recieves a great gift of hope and realises his blessings. COMPLETE! ONE SHOT


**God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen**

_A Christmas Fiction by Kyleigh_

'_It was Christmas Eve, and all was quiet. No one was stirring. Not even a mouse._' A cloaked figured sniffed irritably as he recited a story he had often eavesdropped upon when he was little during Christmas Eve.

Christmas was never special for him. It was one of the most depressing holidays of the year. It seemed only last Christmas Eve when he began to understand the joy and happiness felt during the festive season. He sighed in annoyance. This Christmas would be just as bleak and miserable than the Christmases he had spent with family.

"Harry, we should stop for the night." The cloaked figured sniffed again, paused and glanced back at his bushy haired friend, Hermione Granger. Snow clung deep into her curly locks, her lips were blue and she was shivering with cold.

He licked his cold cracked lips and glanced at his other companion, Ron Weasley who looked like he would welcome a Hogwarts bed any moment.

"Sure," Harry nodded, "There's a structure over there. We might get out of this cold."

Ron brightened considerably at this news. After leaving the Burrow, a day after Bill's rushed wedding to Fleur, Harry went in search of the missing horcruxes. Once on the trail Harry never looked back. Dumbledore's death and steeled inside him a new determination to carry his mission through and destroy Voldemort once and for all.

The past few months had been gruelling. But despite all Harry's protests he was glad to have Hermoine and Ron tag along with him so that even in the bleakest point of his incredible journey he had company and above all friendship.

_Friendship_. Harry tasted the word on his tongue for a moment. It was a warm sensation, sending a flicker of warmth to his frozen insides. He glanced over to his best friends and sighed. Friendship is what had gotten him this far. Friendship had given him the strength to find all but two horcruxes; the snake and something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaws.

"Shelter sounds good!" Hermione bellowed through the slicing wind. It had started snowing late in the afternoon and had not abated yet. "I can conjure a fire and we can have something nice and warm to eat."

Harry bowed his head down and trudged through the knee deep snow. Over the wind he could barely hear the crunching of the snow of his friend's footsteps. But he knew they were there.

They reached the shelter a few minutes later and Harry immediately recognised the structure to be an ancient ruin. Maybe a castle.

The trio walked through the now non existent archway and through the snow covered ground. Their exploration soon uncovered them a room which was mostly still intact.

Groaning with pleasure to be able to sit down and rest his numb legs, Ron slid down the wall. Harry and Hermione followed suit.

Harry unfurled his wet cloak from his shoulders; nothing more than a tattered remnant of his old school winter uniform.

"No one could guess you have galleons and galleons of gold Harry," Ron murmured dreamily, "With the clothes you get around in."

Harry through Ron a mock indigent look and gestured to his clothes, a pair of tattered jeans and a long sleeved shirt under a famous Weasley sweater. "They fit me! What more do you want?" Harry quipped sarcastically.

"For your information you don't look much better yourself, Ron Weasley," Hermione retorted she was in one of her uncharacteristic teasing modes.

"Neither do you," Ron blurted.

"Ouch that hurt."

Harry watched for a moment at Ron and Hermione's friendly banter. He removed his shoes and wrung out his socks. But having no dry spares he sighed and put them back on.

"Oh Harry you are so useless sometimes," Hermione's voice cut through Harry's non existent thoughts and he started.

Harry was about to protest when Hermione pointed her wand at him matter–of–factly and his clothes became warm as if they had just come out of Aunt Petunia's muggle dryer.

Harry grinned sheepishly at his friends who seemed to be dry also. "Sometimes I rather forget I'm a wizard."

Ron and Hermione could only laugh at the ridiculous sentiment of Harry's statement.

"It's Summer, we shouldn't be using magic," Harry defended.

"We can't very well be expelled for using magic," Ron snapped bitterly. "Considering Hogwarts is now closed for good."

Harry sighed. He had never expected Ron to take the news as badly as he was feeling. Yes, Hogwarts was special. But it had been Harry's only real home and it had been cruelly taken away from him. Ron had the Burrow and family… Harry had the Dursley's.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked as she was making a fire and Ron was eagerly unpacking their supplies looking for the best foods. "I saw your face twist as if you had an unpleasant thought."

Harry sighed wistfully and lent his head against the stone wall. "I was just wondering what the Dursleys are doing on this fine Christmas Eve. I wonder how far their generosity will go this year. I might get a _paper clip_!"

"I dunno," Ron said, his head was still stuck inside the bag as he rummaged for food. "A paper clip would bet the coat hanger…"

Harry snorted in laughter, he kept laughing until tears trickled down his cheeks.

"Boys," Hermione muttered as she began to cook and ignore their rather stupid conversation that worsened in hilarity. She started to hum an old Christmas Carol that had been her mother's favourite for this time of year. Sure it was old fashion but the chorus had gotten stuck into her head and she only knew two of the lines…

She started to sing those lines unconsciously…

'_God rest ye merry gentlemen,_

_Let none of ye dismay…'_

And to her surprise a second voice joined her. An out of key, poorly held melody that was plain sacrilege to the art of music making…

'_I don't know the next line…_

_So I'll just singggg…_

_Fa la la la la la la laa… laaaaaa…'_

"ARRGGHHH! Ron stop you sound like a drunk hyena!" Harry cried clamping his hands over his ears and shaking his head dramatically.

"Ron. That's not even the right carol," Hermione said miffed to be mocked by her best friend.

Ron smiled apparently pleased with himself and shrugged. "I should do a duo with Peeves!"

"NO!"

The trio had eaten a hot meal and had curled up against the wall with their now dry cloaks. Ron, being Ron, had fallen asleep instantly. Hermione wasn't long in following him into unconsciousness. But Harry lay still on the cold hard floor in a fit of wakefulness.

It wasn't the cold or the hard floor that kept him awake. No. Harry knew he would find no comfort and very little rest within his world until he found the last horcurx.

'_It was Christmas Eve, and all was quiet. No one was stirring. Not even a mouse._'

In irritation Harry rolled over. Clamped his eyes shut and mentally started to tell himself to sleep. Harry soon learnt that trying this only made sleep more elusive for him to find.

Growling in frustration and near despair he sat bolt upright. He gathered his cloak about his shoulders and sat cross legged and stared into the flickering fire.

'_God rest ye merrryyyy gentleman _

_Let not ye dismayyyy…'_

Ron's voice filtered through Harry's mind singing that annoying song Hermione had unintentionally taught him. If at all possible it was more annoying and addictive than

'Weasley is our King.'

Harry stared further into the flames, willing unconsciousness to suddenly take a hold of him.

"Good evening."

Harry jumped and jolted around, fumbling for the smooth comforting surface of his wand. Emerald green eyes darted about the decrepit room for the speaker and landed upon the shimmering image of a ghost.

"I'm sorry I scared you," the ghost spoke softly, his voice was merely a whisper in the room it echoed ever so slightly.

Harry nodded his head slightly and studied the spectre before him. The ghost was that of a man. This man would have been tall, muscular and burly in life. He was dressed in odd clothes, wearing robes of deep silver-grey lapped restlessly about his feet. The beard was thinning. He was an older man, Harry decided as he looked into the stern silver eyes, wondering what colour they would have been in life.

"I was hoping to speak with you." The ghost's eyes were transfixed to the badge on Harry's long winter cloak. Some emotion flitted through the apparition's eyes.

Harry inclined his head to the ghost deciding he was not dangerous.

"Who are you?" the ghost demanded gently. "Why do you trespass on my house?"

Harry glanced around and swallowed he knew it would be best to comply with the request. "I'm Harry Potter my companions Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger…" Ron snorted loudly in his sleep and turned over. "We're on a mission, I suppose you could say, and we had to seek shelter somewhere from the elements."

The ghost rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What type of quest?"

Harry stretched his legs and considered his answer. He had refused to tell Professor McGonagall and the Minister of Magic of Dumbledore's secret mission. Should he tell the ghost?

The ghost seemed to have understood his predicament. "Young sir, scallywag as you maybe. I was deeply troubled by my last visitor here and even though I be well and truly dead I will not have befouled magic in my house."

"My quest is to vanquish, conquer, beat the…erm defeat black magic."

"Such valiant words from one so young." The ghost sighed and floated across the floor towards Harry. "But how am I to know I can trust you remains the question."

Harry sat and considered a moment. There was only one way to convince the ghost. "A Great Dark Lord has risen, Lord Voldemort. He has gone beyond any other acts of black magic ever before created. He's immortality is very much assured by the seven horcruxes he has created… horcruxes are…"

"I know what horxcruxes are, foolish boy," the ghost rapt impatiently.

"Five have been found and destroy either by my hand or another. One remains hidden the other will have to wait until I can get close enough. Something of Ravenclaw's… or Gryffindor's… all evidence points to Gryffindor though. Must be getting closer now…"

"And the school?" the ghost interrupted there was something urgent in his voice now. "What about the school."

"Closed," Harry commented slumped his shoulders; Christmas Eve always made him feel irritated, frustrated and resentful at the whole world. "Closed for good. Well… until I can kick Voldemorts scrawny no good backside to the otherside of the underworld or get myself blown to smithereens, which means Voldemort can take over the world and kill everyone…"

The ghost didn't look impressed, far from it in fact. "I strongly advise you to watch your language boy."

Harry raised his eyebrow with was in danger of getting lost in his long overgrown fringe.

Silence reigned for a long time before the ghost once again voiced his opinion. "I could help you."

These four simple words gained the ghost the whole of Harry's attention. The mortal's head snapped up and his green eyes glanced curiously over the ghost who was wearing a blank mask.

"How?" Harry questioned cautiously. "And how do I know it is not a trap?"

"I cannot assure you that I'm not leading you into a trap. You must take my word that you are quite safe with me."

Harry considered this for a moment and glanced over the sleeping forms of his friends. "My friends will be safe?"

The ghost considered Harry for a moment his steely eyes did not move from the younger's face. "Upon my word."

Harry nodded as if satisfied. "And how can you help me, Sir Ghost?"

"I happen to know which of my relics have been befouled by the Snake Heir." The ghost waited for this piece of information to sink in.

"Gryffindor?" Harry hazarded. "You're Godric Gryffindor?"

The ghost nodded gravely. "That I am young sir. That I am. I also happen to know where the horcrux which you seek his hidden. I can take you."

Harry scrambled to his feet. "Really?"

"Of course," the ghost's features softened somewhat he took Harry's soft hand his smoke like one. And though they could not truly touch Godric lead Harry though the semi open door.

Harry followed after the ghost with a myriad of questions floating around in his brain. Gryffindor didn't seem to be in a hurry as he led Harry through the decaying ruins of his ancient home. They took many twists and turns before Godric suddenly stopped him. A half decayed oaken door stood in front of them.

"It's beyond that door," The Gryffindor ghost murmured pointing a long grey finger at the rotting wood.

Harry stepped forward but Gryffindor's voice stopped him.

"There is a price."

"What price?" Harry turned to look into Gryffindor's steely grey eyes.

"Only a true heir of Gryffindor can enter or the Snake heir himself. I will have to help you." Gryffindor if at all possible drew himself to a more sterner posture. "Secondly you must give me something."

"What?" Harry demanded keeping the biting tone of impatience off his tongue. "I'll give you anything."

Godric nodded wistfully as if he fully expected this answer. "I want your solemn word that you will support the reestablishment of Hogwarts."

"I would be glad to," Harry agreed and stopped short when the ghost was clearly waiting for Harry to continue. "Upon my word," Harry added. This seemed to appease the ghost.

"Now place your hand on the door."

Harry did what he was told immediately. Gryffindor pressed his ghostly form onto Harry's hand. It was unlike any sensation Harry had ever felt before. It was almost like Gryffindor was flesh – almost but not quite.

The door creaked open and Harry stepped through the door with Gryffindor in his wake. The room was rounded, grey stone walls were covered in vines and it was snowing through the open roof. _'What a miserable place,'_ Harry thought to himself.

Gryffindor waved his hand through the air everything around Harry shimmered and transformed in front of his eyes. Large heavy tapestries lined the wall, a fire was burning merrily in the fire place, there was elegant furniture, the roof was intact, candles burned in ornamental candle sticks which stood from the ground.

"My study as I remember it."

Harry nodded appreciatively and the picture faded from in front of his eyes.

"The wall over there. Blood is the key… but as I…"

"I understand," Harry said striding over to the wall. He had a small potions knife, clean of course, ready for any locks such as the one he and Dumbledore had encountered that night.

Harry brought down the knife spraying the wall with crimson liquid. Grimacing at the stinging feeling in his arm Harry pressed his wand to his flesh as Dumbledore had and healed the wound while a little window opened to reveal a scabbard.

Tentatively Harry reached over to pick it up. It was made from fine crimson leather, gold and silver formed the intricate metal work. Harry instantly knew it was the scabbard that belonged to Godric's sword which he had pulled from the hat in his second year. But he had not meant to murmur that aloud.

"My sword?" Godric questioned earnestly. "He didn't get my sword as well?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "No. I pulled the sword out of the sorting hat in my second year of Hogwarts to slay the basilisk and to this day it is still in the head's office."

Godric tsked loudly. "So young." He reached over and brushed ghostly fingers down Harry's cheeks making Harry shiver as if he had jumped into a frozen pond naked. "And you don't even have any sign of a beard."

Harry grinned shyly, shuffled and returned his gaze to the scabbard. Hope rekindled in his heart. For the first time his task did not seem unsurmountable.

"Merry Christmas," Godric said.

Harry paused for a moment. "Thank…" he finally tore his eyes away from the scabbard and glanced around the room. "You…" He was completely alone.

&&&

"Merry Christmas!" Harry cried waking both Hermione and Ron shaking them roughly.

"Gah. Go away Hawwy," Ron moaned.

"But it's Christmas!"

"Yes I can not feel the cold if I'm asleep," Ron muttered. "Besides you _hate _Christmas!"

"No I don't. I love Christmas," Harry snorted. "This will be the best ever. I can tell."

Ron turned over mumbling words that sounded suspiciously like swearwords.

"Harry what's that?" Hermione ever practical asked pointing to the scabbard that Harry was holding proudly.

"The best present ever!" Harry beamed running his hand up along the red leather.

"Yes but why do you have it?" Hermione inquired patiently.

Harry grinned. "This is the sixth soul of Voldemort. This is my hope…"

Hermione started her jaw was agape in surprise.

"We have much to be thankful for this Christmas. But best of all we're all together."

"Where did ya get that?" Ron asked.

"Father Christmas visited last night," Harry quipped cheekily.

"Yeah right," Ron mumbled rolling back over to fall asleep again. "Right mate."

&$&$

There is my attempt at a Christmas fiction that really isn't all that Christmassy. Shrugs. I like Harry suffer the bah humbugs working in retail this time of the year: although Christmas can be nasty to some of us, we need to remember our blessings. : )

Merry Christmas Everyone,

Illeanah


End file.
